Predictable
by Primrue
Summary: Fred prides himself in being unpredictable, but little does he know that someone else does too.


Predictable

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~o0o~

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The doorbell to Weasley Wizard Wheezes chimed, but Fred paid it no attention. The door to his and George's shop was a never-ending parade of chimes and if he were to crane his neck and greet every single customer that stepped through that door he would have no time for anything else. Instead, Fred resumed his attention to the stack of 'Daydream Charms' he was arranging.

The war had been horrible, but despite the aftermath, Fred and George were as determined— if not more— to put a smile on people's faces after it as they had been during. It was why George laughed and joked about his missing ear when the children came in and pointed towards it, and it was why Fred could deal with his limp after having had a whole bloody wall fall on him. There was no one too small or big for the Weasley twins, everyone were welcome to share in the laughter. Well . . . nearly everyone.

Fred startled when he saw her dark, raven hair pass him by in the store. It was longer than he remembered it being from Hogwarts, and even from the Battle. The Battle where she'd tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort . . .

Immediately, Fred felt hostile feelings arise within, urging him to kick the witch out and scream at her to never come back, but a tiny voice told him not to cause a scene. After all, that had been years ago, and if Percy had changed why couldn't Pansy Parkinson—

 _Oh, forget it._

"Oy, Parkinson!"

There were a few stares but people were quick to look away. Pansy, however, wasn't.

Slowly, much slower than he'd expected, she turned her head and looked at him. There was a curl building in her lip, but she appeared to be fighting it, her Pureblood upbringing no doubt to credit for the restrain. Fred observed though, that her eyebrow arched impressively high in an elegant fashion. Again, her upbringing.

While part of Fred pondered curiously on this aspect of the witch in front of him, going as far as to compare her to Ginny, and even Hermione, who both would have taken to physical violence by now if they'd ever been spoken to in that way by him, Pansy had taken a few steps towards Fred, her arms crossed and her eyebrow still as deadly sharp as before. But she was silent. Having not really planned further than this, Fred fumbled slightly for words, and before his improvisation skills had time to kick in Pansy was standing on her stiletto clad feet, looking him straight in the eyes with her icy gaze.

"Yes?" She asked, waiting for him to provide a reason for his rude greeting.

Fred's mind cleared and thoughts from before were thrown away as the former Slytherin proceeded to watch him challengingly, daring him to throw her out. It was his bloody establishment! Why shouldn't he be able to throw whomever he wanted out? Then again, perhaps it would be more fun _not_ to meet her expectations. No one ever called the Weasley twins predictable, and with good reason.

Fred plastered on his most fake and professional smile, reserved only for investors with nasty personalities, and Ron. "Miss Parkinson," he said whilst making a tiny bow, "What a pleasure it is to have you here. Say, I don't believe we've had the fortune to ever meet properly. I'm Fred Weasley."

His outstretched hand was predictably ignored. "I know who you are, Weasley. Enough with the pretense," said Pansy and made to walk away from him. "If you don't mind, I have a minor business to attend to here and I wish to leave as soon as possible."

 _That makes two of us_ , thought Fred and offered to help her find what she was looking for. _The sooner she finds it, the sooner she leaves._

Pansy looked him up and down, her eyes seemingly burning through his robes and through to his agenda. She knew what he was up to and she knew the reason behind it. And yet . . . she accepted his offered arm.

"Just don't trip and make me look like a fool," she said.

Fred couldn't fight the grin building on his lips. It was a rare person to comment on a man's limp with such disregard, but when you'd lived with the looks of pity Fred had had to endure the past few years, such a person was a fresh breeze.

Fresh breeze . . . Never had he ever thought he'd consider Pansy Parkinson a fresh breeze. Guess he wasn't the only unpredictable one.

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~o0o~

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A/N: I saw an aesthetic with them on tumblr and then I got this idea and I don't know…Honestly, I don't know. But I hope you liked it?


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